


look at where we are

by bebtea



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: A conversation that should have been had, Forgiveness (can you imagine?), Other, Season 6 Spoilers, kind of a sequel to turning around and around but not really, post s6m40, yes the title is a bad hamilton reference don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bebtea/pseuds/bebtea
Summary: Nadia confronts Veronica after the events of Season 6. Things aren't like they used to be.
Kudos: 5





	look at where we are

“What did she do, Sam?! What the _hell_ has she done now?”

“They,” he corrects automatically, not looking up at the intruder into the comms shack. “And I’ve no idea, take it up with Five. I’m busy.”

She pauses for a second at that, in disbelief. It’s not like him to be so dismissive, but there are lines on his forehead and he’s scrolling through Rofflenet messages and pages of what look like the testimonies of baby factory escapees with a feverish intensity she does not typically associate with Sam Yao.

“I’m not talking about Runner Five pulling some prank, I’m talking about Veronica, hence the pronoun. Unlike some people around here, I can think about things other than Runner Five!” Her voice rises sarcastically. “Veronica McShell? She’s... I don’t know, about five foot one, wears her hair in French plaits, talks about science, child genius?”

Sam finally glances up, and his features soften with guilt. “Oh. Yeah. I’m… Nadia, I’m so sorry.”

“Just… tell me what she’s done. Please. I can’t get a straight answer from anyone.”

He doesn’t give her one either, but points to a building across the quad. “She’s still… there. For now.”

* * *

Abel’s server room hums with warmth and the buzz of Nadia’s bike before she screeches to a halt inside. The lights are rather dim - all the generator power is diverted away, but they brighten expectantly when she cuts her engine.

“I told you that you weren’t allowed to die.”

“Nadia! It’s good to see you. Well, I saw you approaching the Abel perimeter twenty minutes ago but-”

“You promised.” She can feel her voice begin to shake. She doesn’t know where to put her gaze, where exactly to address the room, so she talks to one of the cables snaking the ceiling. “You promised me that I would always have you left! And now, yet again, I’m left without a body to bury.”

“Yes. I promised you that I’d live forever. Now I’ll always be here. I won’t leave you behind.”

“That is _not_ what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

The voice is quiet. The servers hum. Nadia’s heart aches.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The question reverberates around the room. She must have heard a voice similar to this ask that question a hundred thousand times. Nadia looks away from her spot on the ceiling, and to the floor.

“I abandoned you in Abel. I couldn’t… I didn’t protect you. I gave up.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. No it isn’t, and it wasn’t.” _And you’re not the same any more_ , she wants to add. _Veronica wouldn’t reassure me like that._

Perhaps she would, though. It’s been a long time since they spoke properly, after all - Veronica would be what, sixteen now? And it hadn’t been for lack of trying, but every time she’d looked into those big, hopeful hazel eyes, she saw Owen reflected back in pools of blood. Now there is no face to look at, and she hates how much easier that makes this.

“Why did you do this in the first place, Ronnie? I don’t understand. Nobody does.”

“I didn’t like… when I was in my body, it never felt very much like it was mine. Have you ever felt like you were trapped in the wrong skin? Nobody could take me truly seriously, all they saw was a “little girl”.” Her voice glitches in irritation. “Worse: a little girl who betrayed them. I couldn’t escape zoms fast enough to keep myself safe, and I couldn’t find and store information quickly! Do you know what it’s like to be so aware of your limitations it _itches_? _”_

“Veronica,” she raises an eyebrow. “Acute spinal damage ringing bells in that giant computer brain?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. But this is like that! Adaptive and assistive technology!”

“Building adaptive technology for my disability is not the same as joining a computer hive mind for no reason! This isn’t using cue cards to express emotions - this is you discarding your humanity!”

“I’m still here. I’m still me. Why would a body make me any more human?”

She doesn’t have much of an answer save for the crawling sense of _wrongness_ she feels. “Because limitations are what make you a person. Human beings are far from perfect. Our bodies and minds fail us, all the time. We can work around that, but if we got rid of them, we wouldn’t be human any more.”

“ANNIE isn’t perfect. Far from it. I’m still a work in progress. I’m just… in a different casing? And it’s so much better here. It’s like… it’s like all my life I’ve been studying the snowflakes, and now I’m on the outside of the snowglobe. Everything is… so much bigger than I ever knew.”

“Was that… a metaphor?”

She can almost hear Veronica’s slightly smug smile, her voice blurring with ANNIE’s. “I’m sharing a brain with a social expert - I’ve been learning a lot about effective communication.”

Effective communication? That would be a first for both of them.

“At least now you don’t have to worry about getting gooseberry jam stains on your labcoat.”

The robotic voice is incredulous. “That was one time, and I-“

Despite herself, Nadia laughs, lifting herself off her bike and settling on a ledge between the rows of server banks. She leans against one, cheek to cheek.

“Tell me more about this, then. How exactly does it work? Are you everywhere at once? Do you have control?”

“I’m in control… most of the time. I’m patched in to more and more cameras around England each day as Abel remakes its alliances. I’m learning and seeing and understanding-“

“She’s not going to take over? Go all rogue AI, you know, ‘ _I’m sorry Nadia, I’m afraid I can’t do that_ ’.”

“I’m far more likely to say that to you than anyone else is.”

“You’re right. A robot wouldn’t dare.” She pulls her legs up and closes her eyes, and reminisces about an afternoon in the treehouse three years before. She'd been making vegetable curry. One of Veronica’s scientists had a side project creating artificial spices, and they had decided to test them, to some success. Other settlements supposedly had functioning greenhouses that could make the real thing, but it wasn’t a trade to risk the lives of runners over. When all else failed, homemade was fine.

Veronica had burst in through the door and peered over the pot with some determination, trying to suss whether it was finished yet. She was so little, then, summer freckles paling from long hours in the laboratory. Nadia still had to put her hair up for her most days, but after a long shift it was straggling everywhere, threatening the bubbling pot.

“Get out of the way before you contaminate it!” Nadia had waved the wooden spoon at her nose with some authority. “Lab clothes off, hands washed, table set for dinner, please!”

“Yes mum,” she’d rolled her eyes, such a typical teenager, and so unusual. They’d both frozen in place, stilled by surprise for a moment. The pot on the trangia hissed and sputtered. “I mean-“

Heat had risen to Nadia’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. Just get on and let me finish this cooking.”

“I’m _not_ calling you _that_.” She’d stood there stiffly, fists clenched. “It was an accident. She was… you’re _nothing_ like her.” 

“I’m barely thirty, Veronica, I don’t want to be your mother.”

“Fine!” the girl spat.

“Fine, then! Get changed, wash your hands and set the table! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand…” 

“I’m going!” She’d stamped her foot, and fled to the bedroom, pulling back the dividing curtain with a yank and missing Nadia’s hint of a smile as she turned back to fiddling with the camp stove.

How did that little broken-hearted child change so much in three years? She can still see her face, hear her heavy footsteps as she paced around the bedroom, picture her stirring her fork pensively in the curry. She can still remember her later that evening, looking at pictures of her parents in silent tears. Now she’d never cry again, never trace their faces with her thumb, never stamp her feet in frustration, or crawl into her sleeping bag so worn out from a day’s work she forgot to take her shoes off or pop her face too close at five in the morning because her way of apologising was “Nadia, you have to see the most _interesting_ sunrise ever!”

But really, things hadn’t been like that in a long time.

“When did you grow up?” she asks in the present, running a finger along flashing lights.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Well, when did you stop needing me?”

 _“_ I don’t think I ever did.” Unspoken, the words, _you’re the one who left._ Nadia fights the urge to apologise again. She’s said all she could. Almost.

“Ronnie, I forgive you. For Owen. For Sigrid. For… becoming this. For all of it.”

“I forgive you, too.”

“Friends?”

“...friends.”

“And friends don’t leave friends behind. Not again. Not if I can help it.”

“Nadia…" her voice rises, asking for a favour. "Do friends also help their newly-lacking-in-arms-and-legs friends by sneaking cameras into the Fort Canton labs? Don’t look cross, we’re allies!”

“We might be, but Amelia will break any deal before she lets ANNIE into her territory. And probably break my arms. And I like the way things are, so push your luck and I’ll take your parts for brake pedals.”

“That’s… that’s not how this works at- oh never mind.” She huffs a little as Nadia chuckles at her own threat. “I’ll just rebuild myself better and stronger and faster.”

“You do references too, now? I’m starting to doubt enhanced communication was an upgrade.”

“Oh, that’s not because of ANNIE, it’s Sam. He’s been here a lot. We’ve been trying to find his sister. He’s not doing so well. But the puzzle of tracking her down is slotting into place, I think it’s going to be the next thing I work out, actually, now I’ve cured the virus. It’s a matter of finding patterns in Sigrid’s notes…”

Nadia settles in for a long explanation, and if she keeps her eyes closed, it’s almost another sunny treehouse day.


End file.
